


To Hear

by enthusiasmgirl



Series: The Five Senses [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blindness, Catholic Character, Disability, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 16:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3857782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enthusiasmgirl/pseuds/enthusiasmgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some way, having a heightened sense of hearing is a blessing to Matt. In many ways, it's also a curse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What You Can't Ignore

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first in what will be a series based around an exploration of the ways in which each of Matt Murdock's heightened senses and his lack of sight impact his day to day life beyond the superheroic ways. I was just fascinated watching the show and reading the comics by the fact that having senses that heightened would seem to be both a blessing and a burden, and by the realities of what Matt's life as a blind man might be like.
> 
> Important fact: I do not know anyone who is blind. I am merely speculating on what the experience might be like. I did do a small amount of research, but if I got anything terribly wrong or have inadvertently included anything offensive to anyone who is blind or knows someone who is, please LET ME KNOW in the comments! I am doing the best I can with a subject that is outside of my own experiences. The same goes for my portrayal of Matt's Catholicism. I am not Catholic, so please feel free to comment and correct me as necessary on things.
> 
> (Also, I am sorry I am not updating my other stories at the moment. I am trying to. But this idea just grabbed me and wouldn't let go until I gave in and wrote it).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's heightened sense of hearing initially brings him nothing but more pain.

When he woke up, the hospital was disorienting. So much noise. Too much. It never stopped. A constant grinding noise that he thought might be wheels moving along the linoleum. Why were they so loud? Heart monitors that beeped and clicked and the distressing moment when suddenly the beeping and clicking became one long tone and he knew that it meant that someone was dying nearby. Nurses gossiping. Doctors delivering bad news. Carts crashing together. Elevators ringing and their doors opening. Rhythmic whirring as ventilators pumped air in and out of people's lungs. Footsteps. So many footsteps and always in a hurry.

He was so tired, but couldn't sleep. He was curious, but couldn't focus. Worst of all, when he tried to look around and picture the scene around him there was nothing. Not blackness, the way he might have expected. Just nothing, which was somehow scarier. What was happening to him? And when would it end?

Footsteps coming closer. Then, a new noise as someone sat down next to him. "Matty," the voice asked, warm and affectionate. "Are you awake, kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad," he said, and the echo of his own voice ringing around inside his skull made him momentarily nauseous.

A gentle sigh. His dad was tired too. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess," said Matt, whispering. "Everything is just so loud. When will it go away?"

"I don't know," his dad said. "I tried to tell the doctors what you told me about the noise, but they said that it was normal. The hospital's a pretty loud place for anyone to have to listen to all the time. They also thought that you might just be more sensitive to your other senses right now with the... well, with everything." His dad didn't say "blindness" but Matt felt like he could hear the word anyway, hanging in the air uncomfortably. One more thing he wish he could block out. He sniffed and tried to hold back a tear but couldn't tell if it worked. His bandages were always damp with them already.

"I brought you something, though," continued his dad. "The Walkman I got you for your last birthday. You love this thing, yeah? I thought you might miss it. I grabbed a couple tapes too. Remember that mix you taped off the Classic Rock station on the radio? Stuff you like. Might be helpful, yeah? Keep some of the noise out? Help you sleep?" His dad took his hand and Matt could feel him place the small box in it. Matt nodded, unsure if his dad noticed.

"I gotta talk to the doctors for a bit," his dad said, standing up. "But give it a try. It'll be all right, kid." Matt felt him reach out and ruffle his hair. He wished he'd stay, but knew he had to go.

He heard the footsteps of his dad leaving the room, and heard the doctor greet him. "Good news, doc?" his dad asked. "I'm sorry..." he heard in reply. He felt his breathing get shallower. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't want to hear anything.

Panicked, he used his fingertips to feel the raised buttons at the top of the Walkman. The one that matched up with his ring finger was play, he remembered. He took comfort in the familiarity of the object. With his other hand he took the headphones, rubbing his thumb along the felt earpiece covers. He gently placed them on his ears and pressed the button.

He immediately regretted it. The note that tunneled its way into both eardrums was so loud. He didn't even know something could be that loud. It was physically painful. He yanked the headphones off his head. The music kept playing. It was Start Me Up by the Rolling Stones, he knew. Now, with the headphones clutched in his lap, he could hear it. It was still louder than a boombox playing on a street corner, and all the other noises of the hospital flooded back into his awareness. It was awful.

He could hear the doctor again. "... There's a foundation for the blind that can assist you with finding and purchasing any necessary aids or enrolling him in special programs designed to help him navigate the world around him. Of course, without insurance..."

Without thinking, he put the headphones back on his ears, slamming his head back onto his pillow. It hurt. He loved this once, but now it hurt and he didn't think it would ever stop. But at least he didn't have to hear anything else.


	2. Joyful Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt thought he was alone. And cursed. But maybe he's wrong about both.

Everyone was gone. His father. Stick. Matt was alone.

One Sunday in confession, he confided in the priest that he knew he shouldn't be so upset about Stick. His dad had died. His dad had died for him. But Stick had just abandoned him. That wasn't the same thing, and maybe it meant that Stick never deserved Matt's love anyway.

Matt said this, but then also followed it up with what he really felt. That maybe he didn't deserve Stick's love, or his dad's. Maybe he deserved to be blinded, to be cursed with other senses that tormented him. That he must have committed some terrible sin that he couldn't remember, and now he was being punished. He asked if he could be absolved for a sin he didn't understand yet. He didn't want to be alone anymore.

"You're not alone, my child. Never. God is with you," was the response. Matt wished he could find comfort in it, but it only made him angry.

The other children at St. Agnes wouldn't play with him. He wasn't sure if it was because his blindness made them uncomfortable or because they didn't think he could, but they gave him a wide berth. So he sat in his room and studied, listening to them laugh and play outside. He asked the nuns why the other children wouldn't play with him, but they never provided him with an answer. "You're just special," they would say.

"I'm lonely," he would say back.

"You shouldn't be," they told him. "God is always with you, Matthew." He never believed them.

Sometimes he would sit and meditate the way that Stick had told him to and he would try to use his heightened senses to reach out and sense God's presence. He felt like maybe if it were tangible to him, he would feel better. After all, if God had heightened his senses, couldn't that be the reason? Maybe God wanted Matt to know that he was there with him. But no matter how much he focused, no matter how much he reached out, he always just felt an ache in his heart afterwards.

One day, he decided to study in the church instead of his room. He liked the church. It was a solemn, solitary place, but it was also cavernous and sounds echoed in it in a way that Matt found particularly calming.

He hadn't expected anyone else to be there, and was surprised when he heard footsteps, and the sweep of robes along the ground. "Sister?" he asked.

"Matthew!" the nun said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Enjoying the peace," he replied. "And you?"

"Shattering it for you, most likely," she said. "I was intending on practicing the organ today."

"Oh," said Matt. "That's okay. I don't mind." It was true. He didn't. No matter where he was, he would be able to hear it anyway. If anything, it would block out some of the other noise around him if he stayed. He went back to reading.

She began to play. Matt had heard the organ played many times before, had heard it accompany the choir at Sunday service. But this time, something was different. As the nun began to play, Matt could sense the long deep notes filling the enormous space in a different way. He could sense their vibrations, the way that the air changed with each progression. Without other people filling the room, the instrument rang out joyfully and overwhelmingly, blanketing Matt in sensations he had never felt before.

The sister ended the hymn, but the music seemed to linger in the air.

"Matthew?" he heard her ask. "Are you okay?"

He wondered why she was asking until he felt the tears running down his face. "Yes," he said. "I just..." He didn't know what to say.

"You know you don't need to be able to read sheet music to play," she said. "Would you like me to teach you?"

"Would you?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

He grabbed his cane and moved towards her and she helped him up the steps. Before she sat him down at the bench, he reached out to touch the organ pipes. She guided his hands and he felt each pipe, then felt his way down the side of the instrument and finally put his fingers on the keys, counting them.

As he sat and pressed one down, a high, beautiful tone came out of one of the pipes. He reached out with his senses to feel the vibrations run through him and tried to place which one it was, tried to feel how the machine worked.

The sister reached out and placed her hand on his. She guided his fingers to other keys and pressed them down to create a chord. Soon, he was playing entire hymns using his senses to memorize how each key felt, how each chord sounded.

And as the music enveloped him, he understood what the priest and sisters had been trying to tell him. He felt it welling up inside of him like a wellspring. He wasn't alone. And what he could do wasn't a curse. Stick was right. It really was a gift.


	3. What You Learn to Ignore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy is a good friend, but also an idealist and Matt's heard too much in his life to not be a pragmatist.

"Thank you all for listening today, and don't forget that your term papers are due on Monday," said Professor Leary. "If you are having any difficulty, my office hours are this evening between 5pm and 9pm or tomorrow between 1pm and 3pm."

The students began to chatter as the class dispersed. "Little help?" Matt asked.

"Sure thing," Foggy said, reaching over to take some of his books from him as he loaded his laptop into his bag. "Are we still on for lunch?" he asked.

Matt took the books back from Foggy. "Absolutely. I just have to talk to Leary about my paper. I'll be right back."

Matt moved away to talk to the professor while Foggy waited. As Foggy packed up his own laptop and waited, he couldn't help but overhear Matt's name come up in a conversation a few rows away.

"... must be nice is all I'm saying," said the speaker, and Foggy looked over to see that it was Trevor Hernendez, who lived a few doors down from them in the dorm. "To get all the teacher's notes sent to you to study with. I'd be a teacher's pet too if I got a break like that."

Foggy knew that they were talking about the fact that professors always accommodated Matt's inability to view their PowerPoint presentations by providing them to him afterwards so that he could review them with his screen reader later. It never occurred to him that anyone might have a problem with it, and he couldn't believe that his classmate was being so rude to Matt. He kept listening.

"Not like he needs it," said a fellow female student whose name Foggy didn't know. "I mean, what are the professors gonna do, fail the blind guy? I bet he's only here because he makes the school look good and fills some quota for cripples the school's gotta meet. I had to bust my ass for my scholarship, but I bet if I couldn't see there'd be all kinds of places lining up to admit me so they could feel better about themselves. It's ridiculous."

"Hey," Foggy yelled over, unable to take it anymore. "Assholes! That's my friend you're talking about. And for your information, he worked ten times harder than any of you clowns to get here so why don't you shut your mouths. Dicks!"

The group shot him a rude look, but he didn't care. It wasn't until he turned around and saw Matt heading over that he realized that he may have been too loud. "Shit," he said under his breath. He walked over to his friend.

As they left the classroom, Matt didn't say anything. For a moment, Foggy was resolved not to bring it up, but the thought of Matt having to hear what happened upset him too much. "Did you hear that?" he asked finally.

"I hear everything," Matt replied.

"They were being dicks," Foggy said.

"Yes, they were," Matt agreed. "But you shouldn't have engaged them".

"I shouldn't have engaged them?" Foggy imitated. "What? Dude, I'm not going to listen to that crap without saying something. I know how hard you worked to get here and I know how hard you work now. That's unacceptable and I'm sorry you had to hear it."

"It's not the first time," Matt said, "And it won't be the last. But if I expended all of my energy worrying about the people in the world who look at me and have a problem, I'd never get anything done."

"That sucks," Foggy said, not understanding Matt's attitude. "If you don't say anything to people, how will you ever prove them wrong?"

Matt sighed. "Why do you think I work so hard?" he asked.

"I don't know," said Foggy, "I guess I always just figured it was just who you are. Or something to do with growing up the way you did, maybe?"

"I know it's never occurred to you before, and it's part of why we get along so well, but I walk around in a world that looks at me differently than other people," said Matt. "Has different expectations. Makes assumptions about what I can or can't do. When I walk into a room, there's never a time when I don't know that people are staring at me even if I can't see it. When I go to do something, there's never a shortage of well-meaning people who offer to help me whether I need it or not. And they talk. Like they did today. It never stops. I work as hard as I do to prove them wrong. That's the only way to do it. To be better. To challenge their assumptions. I do it with actions, not words."

"Oh," said Foggy. "Wow. Okay. You're right. It never occurred to me. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Matt. "I've never asked for pity. I just need you to let me fight my own battles. Or not fight them, in this case. Okay?"

"Can do, buddy," said Foggy. "Now, where are we eating?"

As they continued walking, Matt could hear the students Foggy had yelled at in another hallway. "Seriously," one of them said, "That fat-ass can stick up for Murdock all he wants, but you know he knows the truth too." Matt knew that while his heightened hearing had taught him to ignore insults and harsh words from people, Foggy was still an idealist who believed that people weren't normally as cruel as Matt knew them to be. And Matt hoped it stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments! Feel free to leave some! And I have a Tumblr, which is http://enthusiasmgirl.tumblr.com.


End file.
